This Sin—the one I see now—is something else entirely.
Suddenly, Ro is behind me, reaching for me. “Lizzie, we gotta go. It’s not safe for you out here.” She starts pulling at me as I turn back to Sin. He marches with the rest of the guys toward the front of the clubhouse. My heart leaps into my throat at the thought of him getting hurt.
“Wait, no. I need to stay. I need to see this,” I blurt out, not understanding why I want to be a part of this danger, this fight that is ahead.
Ro shakes her head. “Don’t be stupid, Elizabeth. We need to go.Now!” She yanks on my arm just as Sin turns to face me. The look in his eyes startles me. It’s not anger, it’s not desperation—it’s fear.
“For fuck’s sake, Elizabeth, do what you’re fucking told for once in your damn life…please!”The anxiety in his tone has me moving instantly into Ro’s arms as she begins to drag me away.
Sin’s shoulders slump as if he’s relaxing at seeing me leave—as if you can be relaxed in this kind of situation. He turns back to the front door with his brothers when suddenly, the first gunshot echoes, and I duck instinctively, my breath hitching as bullets fly straight through the clubhouse window. The glass shattering into shards right where I was standing moments before.
“Shit!” I blurt out.
Ro and I don’t have time to make it to wherever we were going, so we slide under a table.
“Tell me where they are, Ghost. I don’t want to be sitting fucking ducks in here,” Sin calls out.
Ghost checks the cameras, and he nods. “They’re about to breach the gates, Pres.”
Sin glances at Nitro and tilts his head. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Nitro chuckles, pulling out another gun from his waistband. “Fuck, yeah, let’s take this party outside.”
Sin chuckles, shooting me a quick glance under the table before shoving the clubhouse doors wide open. The Defiance members spill into the parking lot, taking cover behind parked cars as they draw their weapons. Anxiety ripples through me, but I can’t sit back and not know what’s happening, so I slide out from beneath the table and take off.
“Fuck, Lizzie.Stop!Jesus Christ,” Ro yells, rushing up behind me as we pull up just behind the doors, peeking out, watching as the Alliance breaks through the clubhouse gates, moving in with brutal precision, their intent clear, they want to send a message, and that message is painted in violence and revenge.
No words are spoken.
Both sides know what this is about.
Defiance came into the casino, into the Alliance’s turf, without prior warning, and got nothing in return.
I know how the underworld works.
You don’t get anything for nothing.
Lorenzo, flanked by Dante and more of his men, barge through the parking lot like a pack of wolves unleashing hell. Their boots pound against the asphalt in a deadly rhythm, guns raised high and glinting in the harsh Nevada sun. The Defiance brothers scramble for shelter behind carefully placed barricades, concrete barriers, reinforced steel drums, and armored bike covers that I never realized were strategically positioned throughout the lot for moments exactly like this. Now, witnessing it firsthand as bullets start flying, it all makes terrifying sense.
Gunshots crack like thunder, shattering the desert silence.
Then all hell breaks loose.
The chaos of bullets begins to rip through the air with a sound like angry hornets on steroids.
Ro and I duck instinctively as rogue bullets whizz past us, one slamming into the clubhouse door frame, where splinters of wood explode like tiny daggers. Another bullet punches through a window, sending a spider web of cracks across the glass before it implodes with a crystalline crash. My breathing quickens, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watch this real-life battle for territorial dominance play out in front of me like something straight out of a war zone.
“Get down! Everyone getfuckingdown!” Sin’s voice booms across the lot, his command cutting through the violence like a blade.
The Alliance stride through the compound hard and fast, their black Mercedes forming a semi-circle barricade around the compound’s entrance like predators cornering their prey. Dante rolls on the ground behind the lead vehicle, his assault rifle barking rapid fire that sends chunks of concrete flying from the barriers where Ghost and Axle have taken cover. One of Lorenzo’s men, a mountain of a guy with neck tattoos, takes position behind a concrete pillar, his pistol spitting fire in controlled bursts.
But the Defiance brothers aren’t sitting ducks.
Nitro emerges from behind an overturned picnic table, his shotgun roaring as it sends Lorenzo’s lieutenant diving for cover. The buckshot peppers the side of a black Mercedes, spider-webbing the passenger window and leaving dents in the metal like metallic acne scars.
“Mace! Six o’clock!” Sin shouts, and I watch as the massive biker spins, his .45 barking twice. An Alliance member who’d been trying to flank them stumbles backward, clutching his shoulder as blood blooms across his white shirt like a gruesome flower. He’s alive, cursing in rapid Spanish, but he’s down for the count.
Deek pops up from behind a steel drum, his trademark grin splitting his face even in the middle of this uncontrolled chaos. “Come on, you cartel fucks! Nitro’s grandmother shoots better than you.” He punctuates his taunt with three precise shots that force two Alliance members to scramble for better cover behind their vehicles.
